


just a touch of your love

by Awriterwrites



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: And love, Coming Out, Cunnilingus, F/F, Ferris Wheels, Fireworks, Friendship, Girls Kissing, Internalized Homophobia, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, a wee bit of angst, girl!direction, girl!harrystyles, girl!louistomlinson, girls eating each other out, hahah, happy ending!, i don't really like that word, so i'm gonna add, there's a tent, yay!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 18:28:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9619883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awriterwrites/pseuds/Awriterwrites
Summary: Louis looked at her classmate and suddenly felt like she was under a spotlight, the full force of those green eyes on her like lasers — hot and scorching, despite the cool manufactured air pumping through the lecture hall.“I’m Louis.  Louis Tomlinson.”  She thrust her hand out, awkward and probably way too polite.The other girl arched an eyebrow and slid out of her seat.  She was tall.  And lanky, with knobby knees sticking out from under her thin cotton skirt.  Her black combat boots were clunky and ungainly, but her long, tan arms were graceful and pretty as she extended her own hand toward Louis’.“Harry Styles.”Their palms slid together like flower petals skating over a newly thawed pond and Louis felt a cool rush of relief slither through her body.***The only thing standing in the way of Harry and Louis getting together are...well, Harry and Louis.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you from the bottom of my heart to my good, good friend @twopoppies for betaing this work and for continually being such a source of support in my life. Love you xx
> 
> This is part of a prompt challenge that a group of us are participating in for the prompt "Cat". To read the other amazing fics that were written by the others on this prompt, you can [click here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/cat/works) and to see all fics written as part of the challenge, you can [click here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/2017_hl_prompt_challenge/works).

“You’re here!”

Harry watched as Louis’ familiar blue eyes crinkled, lighting up her elfin face like a Christmas wreath.  Leaning against the door frame, Louis replied, mischievous grin tickling the edges of her pretty pink mouth, “Where else would I be?”  Her voice washed over Harry like rainwater, soothing and cool, calming the ever present itch beneath her skin.

“Get in here!”  Harry cringed at the sound of her own voice.  It was too loud, too enthused.  Too...much  _ everything  _ — like how her mother’s voice would get high pitched and nasal as she greeted guests at the door before a cocktail party.  It was fake and nothing like Harry.  It was the voice that crept up Harry’s throat when she was nervous.

She hated it.

There was an anxious flutter in her stomach as she reached out and put her hands on Louis’ body — the only other body in the entire world that she knew almost as well as her own — one hand resting on her shoulder and the other on the soft curve of her hip.  As she pulled Louis closer, folding her into her arms, Harry had to will herself to breathe because Louis was  _ here _ .  Really here.  They hadn’t seen each other in months and she was  _ right here _ .  

Harry inhaled deeply, feeling the slow expansion of Louis’ chest against hers, the gentle press of her breasts like a weight pulling her down into the abyss.  She wanted nothing more than to sink into the dark, dangerous pool of indecent thoughts involving her best friend.  Let herself just devolve into it, lose her sanity in all of it.  Her best friend and her thighs, her mouth, her soft, satiny, sweet smelling skin...her hands.  Oh  _ god _ , her hands.  

But, still.  Her best friend.  Her totally, platonic, not interested in Harry  _ like that _ , definitely not in the kissing zone best friend.

As they hugged, Harry took in Louis’ tantalizing scent.  Water lilies and summer; the faint salt of the outdoors and the dark, lush smell of forbidden nature completely overwhelming her.  She’d smelled the same way for over five years.  It was comforting and exotic and so, so perfectly Louis.

“Fuck.  It’s good to see you,” Harry whispered into Louis’ hair.

“Mmm.  You too.”  Louis’ voice was deep and her lips tickled against the sensitive skin of Harry’s ear, sending a shiver down her spine. Louis’ hands were running up and down her back and the strength in them was reassuring, a singular comfort in Harry’s momentary panic. 

They let each other go, Harry a bit unwillingly, and looked into each other’s eyes.  That same spark that had always been there ignited between them.  Harry squirmed under the weight of Louis’ stare, the complicated emotion and history, and the knowing that grew like moss over a sinking stone was still there — heavy and full of a complex depth Harry didn’t have the energy to dissect right then.

Harry gave her friend a small smile and walked further into the tiny studio, Louis following closely behind her.  “Want something to drink?”

“Um.  Yeah, what do you have?”  Louis dropped her overnight bag in the foyer and slipped off her shoes.  She looked soft and comfortable in black capri leggings and a Pearl Jam t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, faded and soft from wear.  Her black vans were a little worse for wear but she looked exactly the same as she had eight years ago when Harry had watched her walk into that lecture hall, gleaming like a northern star.  

Harry tore her eyes away and walked toward the kitchen, separated from the rest of the unit by a half wall that also served as a breakfast bar.  She peered into the fridge, looking past the containers of leftovers, random pieces of fruit, and blocks of cheese.  

“Chardonnay...some light beer.  Um...oh!  I have a few of those IPA’s you liked at Christmas?”  

Louis’ voice came from the futon, raspy and comforting, like a worn woolen blanket on a cool autumn day.  “I’ll have one of the beers.  Not a light one.   _ Gross _ .” 

Harry smirked and pulled two bottles out, opening them quickly over the sink, the caps tinkling into the basin with a faint clatter.  She crossed the room in three long strides, fully aware of Louis’ eyes on her thighs, the line of her calves.  She swallowed down her nerves again.  It didn't mean what Harry wanted it to mean. It never did— never would.

****

_ “I love your shirt.” _

_ The other girl just looked at Louis with wide, impossibly green eyes, the full bow of her lips curved up in a half smile.  “Yeah?”  She glanced down at her gray and white Fleetwood Mac shirt.  It was threadbare and had a jagged rip near the right shoulder. _

_ “Yeah.  I saw them last year at the forum in LA.”   _

_ “Oh my god.  You’re so lucky.  I’ve never seen them.  Would love to, though.”  Her voice was deep and husky, the Lauren Bacall sultriness of it that seemed in direct contrast to her wild curls and angelic dimples. _

_ Louis looked at her classmate and suddenly felt like she was under a spotlight, the full force of those green eyes on her like lasers — hot and scorching, despite the cool manufactured air pumping through the lecture hall.   _

_ “I’m Louis.  Louis Tomlinson.”  She thrust her hand out, awkward and probably way too polite.   _

_ The other girl arched an eyebrow and slid out of her seat.  She was tall.  And lanky, with knobby knees sticking out from under her thin cotton skirt.  Her black combat boots were clunky and ungainly, but her long, tan arms were graceful and pretty as she extended her own hand toward Louis’.   _

_ “Harry Styles.” _

_ Their palms slid together like flower petals skating over a newly thawed pond and Louis felt a cool rush of relief slither through her body.   _

_ Belonging.  Acceptance.   _

_ “You wanna — do you wanna grab some coffee or something?” _

_ Harry stared at her for a moment, her round eyes studying Louis’ face like she was gathering the details up for later.  “Yeah.  Yeah.  I’d like that, Louis Tomlinson.” _

_ **** _

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Harry said, uneven and jittery, handing Louis a beer.  There was always a tentative sense of fragile peace between them.  So much left unsaid, too much to say.

Louis grinned that toothy, sharp, sideways smile of hers that made Harry weak in the knees.  She clinked their bottles together, arching an eyebrow at Harry as she slid onto the futon mattress next to her.  “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” Harry said low, quiet, her voice betraying her.  Embarrassed, she quickly changed the subject.  “What’s it like out there?”

“It’s a fuckin’ sauna.  Disgusting.”  Harry could tell.  The heat was pouring off of Louis’ body, the humidity from outside clinging to her skin, making her look dewy and hazy around the edges.  Beautiful.  

Harry hummed, “Thank the goddess for air conditioning, yeah?”

“You’d die without it.”

“I’d argue, but it would get me nowhere.”

“Smart girl.”  Louis took a deep drag from the bottle, her lips pursing obscenely around the mouth of it.  Harry watched from the corner of her eye, noting the way the thin sheen of gloss on her friend’s lips shone from the twinkling white lights that were strung overhead. 

****  

_ They were huddled together in the corner booth of a dive bar just off campus and Harry had lost count of how many beers they’d drank.  It had been a long week and they both agreed they needed to unwind.  Harry kept giggling and quoting the movie “The Singles”, saying she’d had “many beers.”  Louis just encouraged it and slid her more — sometimes a fresh new one, cold from the cooler, and sometimes the rest of her’s, half drunk and warm but almost better because Louis’ lips had been on it — Harry’s mouth had covered it like a forbidden kiss. _

_ Harry said, “Hey Lou — what’s, like, your ideal date night?” _

_ “What are you fucking talking about Hazza?”  Louis slurred, leaning back in the booth, as if distance would help her understand the question better. _

_ Harry had cleared her throat and tugged on her lips between her thumb and first finger.  She watched Louis track the movement with her dark, hooded eyes.  “I mean...what would you do if you could pick, like, the perfect date?  What would you do?  Where would you go?”  And, before she could stop herself, she added, “Who would it be with?” _

_ Harry was drunk, but she was still cognizant enough to know she shouldn’t be asking questions like this of her brand new friend — the best friend she’d ever had, actually, the two of them closer than Harry had ever felt to anyone in her life.  She knew it was a slippery slope, and once she started down it, it might be hard to pull herself back up. _

_ Louis looked at her and twirled her beer bottle in her hands, the dark brown glass catching the lights overhead with every pass.  “I think...I think I’d just like to, you know...Watch a movie, maybe.  I dunno. This is stupid!” _

_ “Louis Tomlinson.  Are you — are you telling me you’ve never gone on a date before?”  Harry said, mock incredulity making her voice high and a little condescending. _

_ Louis had just looked at her, her expression unreadable for a moment before she continued, “That’s none of your business, is it?”  Her tone was cool and more than a little aloof and that was...well.  That hurt. _

_ Harry felt disappointment and hurt welled up inside her chest, the bitter flash of it a complete surprise, because, what the hell?  They were just bullshitting.  But, still...Harry always thought of her life like an open book.  She’d told Louis she was a lesbian the first day they met over lattes and blueberry muffins.  Louis hadn’t said one thing about her sexuality or who she was interested in...she never talked about an ex, never seemed to be interested in anyone.  It was...confusing.   _

_ Harry watched Louis take a long drink of her beer, finishing the bottle, and then look right into Harry’s eyes, the pale blue dark and indecipherable in the dim light.  “Wanna play some darts?” _

_ Harry nodded her head and slipped out of the booth, her head spinning with what just happened.  And, sure, maybe she was a little overly sensitive from the alcohol and being overtired, but still.   She exhaled sharply as she watched Louis’ small, curvy body push through the throngs of students as she made her way to the dartboards.  Her friend was a conundrum, and Harry very much wanted to figure her out.   _

_ As Harry accepted the darts from Louis, the brush of her fingers like the stroke of acrylic on canvas, beautiful and stark, full of promise and possibility, she thought that she’d have to guard her heart a little more carefully, because this girl might just be the end of her. _

***

“The drive up ok?”  Harry sipped from her bottle, tucking one bare leg under the other.  It really  _ was _ ungodly hot outside — she could barely stand wearing the little amount of clothing she had on — the cutoff jean shorts and thin tank top almost too much, even though she was lucky enough to live in an apartment with central air.  

Louis nodded her head and shifted so she could face Harry.  She started picking at the label on her bottle, never breaking eye contact.  “Yeah.  Was good.  A little slow near Oak Street, but…”

Harry bit her lip.  Conversation between them had never been awkward.  At least, not until recently.  It was almost like...there was this bubble sitting between them.  A chasm holding all of Harry’s secrets; one wrong move and it would burst — spilling everything out like blood on a pristine, white backdrop.  All the dark and the light and the in between.  Everything Harry was holding wrapped up tight inside.  

Or maybe not. 

Harry was a little theatrical.  Some might say.  

Louis was looking at her with a question in her eyes.  “You ok?”

“Me?”

Louis laughed, a light airy sound that made Harry’s insides flip.  “Yeah  _ you _ .  You look…”  she tucked her hair behind her ear and tilted her head, Harry absolutely was not watching the way her smooth neck elongated and curved just so — begging to be kissed, licked.  “You look kinda funny.”

“Hey!  ‘M not funny looking!”  Harry jabbed at Louis with one of her feet.

Louis grabbed her foot and held it in one hand, the touch overly hot, molten.  “Didn’t say that.”

It was quiet and still and  _ no _ ...Harry was sure of it now.  There was something there.  Something brewing between them and...she was thrumming with the excitement of it, but also, at the same time, her head was swimming in dread.  Because what if?  What if it was all in her head?  

They’d been friends for years Harry had gotten her hopes up before.  For Harry, hope and longing were synonymous with Louis.  She was her personal holy grail and fuck if she wanted to go down that road again...but.  Everything about  _ this  _ felt different, foreign somehow.  Like swimming out to sea with nothing to hold on to.  It felt like having to choose between two equally dark and overgrown paths, the uncertainty of all the choices she’d made up til this point confusing and making her judgement cloudy.  It felt like do or die time.  Like something needed to give.  To change.  

Just then, a fluffy gray and brown Maine Coon cat came slinking around the corner.  

“Who’s this, then?”  Louis’ voice rose an octave and she leaned forward, her shirt dipping low over collar bones, exposing the soft, pillowy tops of her breasts.  Harry looked away.  

“That’s um…” she cleared her throat, “Ju-Ju?  He’s that rescue I told you about?”

“Oh yeah!  You did say you got a new little lost soul.”  Louis leaned forward even more, putting her fingers out so Ju-Ju could sniff her.  He did, and then pompously walked away, tail high in the air, nose even higher.  “Aw, baby.  Don’t be like that.”

Harry’s stomach twisted at the word “baby”.  Stupid, stupid,  _ stupid _ .  

“Where’s the other demon hiding out?”

Louis was referring to Lucifer, the mangy orange and white tabby that was notorious for scratching up Louis’ ankles and peeing in her shoes when she visited.  He was a bit possessive.

“Oh, he’s around here somewhere,” Harry said dismissively, entranced by the way Louis’ leggings hugged the curve of her calf.  She’d noticed it earlier, of course she had — the sinful pull of the thin material practically obscene — but had pushed it out of her mind. But now, now that Louis had stretched her legs out in front of her, reclining languidly on the futon, she couldn’t help but notice.  Her body was firm and small, compact curves making everything about her soft, sensual.  Harry’s pulse quickened and her fingers twitched.  She’d really like to run her hands up those thighs and slide around to grip Louis’ ass, taking firm handfuls and squeezing them and...

Louis lifted the bottle to her mouth and fuck, Harry knew she was staring but she couldn’t help it.  Louis did everything so precisely, so... _ gracefully _ .  The way she held her arms was like poetry in motion.  Despite being a full 4 or 5 inches shorter than Harry, Louis was truly the elegant one of the pair — moving like a ballerina, always.  Even watching her drink beer on a futon in a cheap little apartment on the north side of Chicago on a sweltering night in July was like watching an award winning performance.  It was gorgeous.  Mesmerizing.  And Harry would do it her whole life if Louis would let her.  

“You're making that weird face again.”  Louis intoned, flat, teasing.

Harry snapped out of it, jumping out of her seat, cheeks flaming, pulse racing.  “Fuck.   _ Shit _ .”  She grabbed Louis’ empty bottle right out of her hands and raced toward the kitchenette.  “Sorry — but we gotta go if we’re gonna make it!”

She could hear Louis snickering behind her and she tried to ignore it.  Well, not really ignore it, but she didn’t —  _ couldn’t  _ — look at her friend across the room.  She was certain she’d be found out if she did.  Caught.  Red handed.  Or red cheeked.  Either way — she didn’t want Louis to read the embarrassment on her face, in her eyes.  She couldn’t face the rejection.  Again.

“I’m gonna pee and then we can head out, yeah?”  Louis called over her shoulder as she made her way toward the bathroom.  Harry watched the way her ass moved in the tight leggings, her t-shirt rucked up over the swell of it.  Her mouth watered at the urge to bite it, bite down on one of the soft mounds of flesh until Louis squirmed and begged her for more, more, more.  

The door clicked shut and Harry sunk down on the futon.  She was fucked.  Royally fucked.

And not in the good way.

****

_ The sun was setting the sky on fire with shades of violent purple and orange, casting an ethereal glow over everything not covered in shadow.  The quad was quiet, most students eating dinner or napping before a wild Friday night out.  Harry and Louis were sprawled out on a plaid blanket, Louis’ head in Harry’s lap and Harry’s legs fanned out in front of her, long and lean with a few nicks and scars littered over them.  Louis knew what caused every one of them, almost as intimately as if they were her own.   _

_ “Lou?” _

_ “Hm?”  Louis glanced up at Harry, watching the way she bit down on her plump bottom lip, white teeth digging into the soft give of it.  Louis licked her own lips, pulse jumping underneath the thin skin of her neck, her wrists...her bruised and shielded heart.  She put her paperback copy of “Of Mice and Men” down alongside them, not bothering to mark the page.   _

_ “If you could do anything, anything at all, for one day what would it be?”  The piercing green of her eyes made Louis catch her breath. _

I’d spend it with you, of course.

_ The words were right there on the tip of her tongue, but Louis swallowed them, choking on the thickness of them — the overwhelming truth in them.  The thought of being so completely wrapped up, so utterly head over heels for Harry made her feel dizzy.  She could barely admit it to herself, let alone the beautiful girl that had stolen her heart from day one.  _

_ “I dunno.  I guess...I guess I’d just want to like be outside.  Be with people I cared about — who cared about me.  I’d just want to be happy.”  _

You make me happy.  I could make you happy.  So, so happy.  If you’d just let me.  If I’d let myself.  

_ Harry ran her long fingers through Louis short, pixie cut.  “Hm.”   _

_ Louis’ eyes dropped closed, the feeling of Harry’s hands in her hair like a daydream.  She could hear someone laughing across the open expanse of new grass, spring whispering in summer’s ear, the school year coming to a rapid, heart-stopping close.  She felt the heat of Harry’s skin through her thin, cotton leggings.  She could sense the way their heartbeats moved together, the twin rhythm comforting, assuring.  She had never felt this sense of calm — peace — before with anyone else.  No one except Harry.  It felt like where she ended, Harry began.  They could finish each other’s sentences, could practically breathe for each other they were so in synch.  It was more than Louis had ever hoped for. _

_ It was terrifying.   _

_ Louis had always thought she was gay, but the brutal honesty of it, staring her in the face like some sort of mocking hologram — the opaque  _ truth  _ of it — had a hold on Louis, so tight she didn’t know how to break free of it.  She worried about what her family would think, her friends back home.  She worried about what kind of life she could have.  Most of all she worried, that if she admitted it out loud, to herself — to Harry — that she’d be laughed at.  Ridiculed.  Rejected. _

_ She’d seen enough of it in the small town where she had grown up.  Fuck, she’d heard her own brothers make fun of people they knew who were gay — seen her own mother pray for them at church, for God to save them.  Admitting it to herself would mean taking a chance that everyone she’d ever known, ever loved, would cross her out of their lives like a can of beans off a grocery list.   _

_ Expendable.  Forgettable.   _

_ Soon Harry and Louis  would part for the summer, their first year of college behind them, and already Louis’ heart ached at the thought of being away from Harry.  In practically no time at all, the other girl had wormed her way into Louis’ heart, her life, in such a way that every thought, every emotion, every little thing that made Louis’ world hers, was shared with Harry — became Harry’s the moment it happened to Louis.  _

_ It was part of why she was so scared to admit the truth to Harry.  Because she felt like she had so much to lose.  Everything Louis had ever thought about falling in love and soulmates and all of the fantasies she’d ever had about happily ever afters just didn’t apply to Harry.  Because with Harry, it was all so simple.  So perfectly, obviously simple.   Being with Harry, falling for Harry, was like taking a walk down a wooded path in the heat of summer.  It was refuge, safe and deliciously easy.  It was friendship and staying up late to watch Monty Python films and sharing ice cream from the tub with two spoons.  It was sharing secrets and crying over just how cruel the world could be.  It was laughing hysterically over things they couldn’t name and it was just so fucking easy.  It was everything.  It was them.  Together.   _

_ Louis had lost too many sleepless nights laying in her bed thinking about what it would be like to kiss Harry, to let herself believe that even for a second Harry might like her more than a friend — that they could build a life together.  It was so overwhelming that Louis just pushed it down, shut it out, until all it was was a tiny pinprick of light in the darkest night.  She couldn’t risk the loss that felt unfathomable — she knew it would destroy her.   _

_ So she stayed quiet — mute when it came to her true feelings.    _

_ “Me too,” Harry finally replied, her hands moving away from Louis, the loss immediate.  “I think...I think I’d want to be with you though.  Too.” _

_ Louis sat up and looked into Harry’s eyes, the golden flecks catching the light like shooting stars, the intensity of the moment –– of what it could mean –– far too much for Louis’ heart to hold.   _

_ “Yeah.  Me too,” Louis finally said.  And  _ god _.  Falling in love wasn’t supposed to  _ hurt  _ like this.   _

_ Harry smiled, a small private thing, meant only for the two of them, and added, “good.” _

_ “Good,” Louis said, hope, laced with desperation, unfurling inside of her, threatening to grow and eclipse any reasonable thought she had left.  Quietly, swallowing her feelings once again, Louis whispered, “Good.” _

_ **** _

“I can’t believe you brought me here!”  Louis yelled, her voice carrying over the loud music and the screams and the sound of traffic on Lake Shore Drive.  

Harry watched Louis’ hair flutter around her face in the warm air that circled them.  It reminded Harry of the way the cotton candy looked when the vendors below spun the pale pink and blue crystalline strands around cardboard posts.  It was light and airy and so soft looking.  The breeze was heavenly, cutting through the damp air like a knife, and Louis’ face was flushed with excitement, her eyes shining brightly.  Their legs were touching from hip to ankle in the small carriage of the ferris wheel, the feeling of Louis’ strong, firm thigh against Harry’s bare one an almost aching temptation, the feel of her body so close assaulting her like a million pinpricks, threatening to explode under Harry’s skin at any moment.

“I knew you would love it!” Harry shouted back, her deep voice higher than normal.

At Christmas, when Louis had last visited, she had mentioned wanting to be a proper tourist the next time she was in Chicago.  Harry had filed that little piece of information away, keeping it until today.  They had grabbed a quick dinner of hot dogs from a vendor and washed it down with huge, tacky skyline souvenir mugs of beer and then, after declaring herself so stuffed she’d never eat again, Harry had grabbed Louis’ hand and dragged her down the boardwalk to the ferris wheel.

Now, climbing up, up, up, high into the city air, Harry was so glad she went for the cheese factor.  Watching Louis’ excited, kid-like expression was worth it.  And it was going to be even more worth it in a minute.

Just as they reached the apex of the climb, the entire boardwalk went dark, wheel included.  Louis clutched Harry’s knee, each one of her fingers like searing points of light, and she breathed, heavy and anxious in Harry’s ear, “What’s happening?”

Harry bit back a moan, the sound of Louis’ rasp traveling through her like a lover’s sigh, shooting right to the center of her, and she whispered back, “Sshh.  Wait for it.”

And then, as if Harry controlled all that is beautiful and right in the world, the entire sky lit up in a cacophony of light and color.

“Fireworks!” Louis shrieked, her face illuminated by the sky.

“Fireworks.” Harry confirmed, reaching down and putting her bigger hand over Louis’, still resting on her knee.  

The ferris wheel was stopped, and Harry couldn’t have planned it better if she’d tried.  They just had crested the very top, the orchestrated music traveling up from the ground like a reverie.  The show was practically in their faces, a display made just for them  — and 50,000 other tourists, but who was counting?  Harry leaned back in the seat, the carriage swaying comfortably, soothingly, with the motion.  She tucked her hands back under her legs, not sure she could be trusted to keep them to herself.  

Instead of watching the myriad of colors explode and take over the night sky, Harry watched Louis.  Louis, who was, by far, the prettiest collection of technicolor luminescence that was ever created.  

Harry watched as Louis’ cheeks pushed up into her eyes, her smile wide and unabashed.  She watched as the other girl’s mouth moved into a perfect round O, marveling at the sight before her.  And then, she watched, as Louis moved, in slow motion and looked directly into her eyes.

They stared at each other, the multi-color shadows dancing over their sweat tacky skin.  And Harry watched, in amazement, as Louis drew closer, her eyes large and electric with the reflection of the fireworks making them impossibly bluer, more vibrant.  “Haz.  I can’t believe…”

Harry smiled and reached out and pulled Louis closer by the back of the neck.  She whispered against her cheek, “Do you like it?”

“I do.” Louis said sincerely, leaning closer so she could tuck her head into the crook of Harry’s neck.  “I love it.”

Harry slipped her arm around her friend’s shoulders.  As Louis got comfortable, Harry watched in equal parts eager lust and amazement as her friend’s hand slid up the inside of her thigh, the smooth sensation of Louis’ palm on the soft, sensitive skin connecting with something deep inside Harry’s tummy.  She felt arousal radiate outward as Louis continued moving her hand up, up, up...until finally her fingers rested just under Harry’s crotch, dancing along the edge of the elastic around the crease of her thigh.  Louis’ hand had traveled too far — much too far — up her shorts to be an accident.  

Harry stared at the hand that had disappeared under the denim of her shorts and she fought the urge to push Louis’ hand even higher, so she could feel just how affected the closeness of her had made her.  So she could feel exactly how she got when Louis was near, when Louis touched her.  Harry swallowed thickly, the heat of those delicate hands almost unbearable.

In that moment, with the night sky exploding into a million colors, Harry felt like she was dreaming.  She had to be, otherwise what did it mean that Louis was touching her like this?  For years they had perfected the dance of touching and  _ not  _ touching — regulating themselves so that they never gave in to the urge  _ too  _ much.  At least for Harry, she always felt like she was walking on a tightrope, keeping herself completely balanced between desire for Louis and affection for her.  

Touching like this...the way Louis was touching Harry?  It blurred all of the carefully constructed lines they’d drawn over the years to the point that Harry could barely see them anymore.  

****

_ “Why can’t you ever throw out the empty boxes, Louis?”  Harry was nearly shouting, waving the box of cereal around in the still air. _

_ Louis looked up from her book and slid her glasses back up her nose.  Fuck, she was cute when she wore her glasses.  Harry narrowed her eyes.  No.  Not the time for that.   _

_ “What?  I didn’t know it was empty?”  Louis was deep in thought and for a moment Harry felt bad that she was interrupting Louis from her studies.  But, no.  Fuck that.  Harry was tired and cranky and horny and really really fucking frustrated with Louis so, no.  And.  She had eaten the last of the rice krispies.   _

_ “You didn’t know it was empty?”  Harry shrieked, throwing the box on the floor between them.  She glared at Louis and watched as Louis stared at her open mouthed..   _

_ Louis closed her book and continued to stare at Harry.  She folded her hands on her lap and crossed her legs.  She was the picture of poise and control.  And,  _ fuck  _ her.  “I didn’t know it was empty, Haz.  Do you wanna tell me what this is all about?” _

_ Harry opened her mouth and shut it again quickly.  Because.  No, she didn’t want to tell Louis anything.  How could she?  What would she say?  ‘Um.  Louis.  I’m really pissed because I haven’t gotten laid in months because I’m head over heels in love with you and fucking every other girl on this god-forsaken campus thinks we’re together but every time I think you are going to put the moves on me you back away and act like a complete asshole for days.’  No, that probably wouldn’t do. _

_ Yeah.  That was a big no.  Not telling Louis anything. _

_ “No.  I’m not telling you what this is about, Louis.  Because all this is about is me wanting to have a fucking bowl of cereal and you always eating the last of it.”  Harry bit out, then turned on her heel and stalked toward her room.  She slammed the door and flopped on her bed, chest heaving and eyes blazing with the need to just  _ wail  _ — she was so frustrated.   _

_ Living with Louis was a terrible, horrible idea.  Especially on days like today — when Harry really just needed to be alone with her thoughts.  And her vibrator. _

_ A few seconds later there was a knock at the door.  Of course there was.  _

_ “Can I come in?”  Louis asked quietly, one foot in the room already. _

_ Harry just sighed and threw an arm over her face.  Well.  Louis was gonna have to work for it, if Harry had anything to say about it.  _

_ “Babe.”  Louis’ voice was close, very close.  Harry felt the bed dip and then the warmth of her body pressing into her side.  She could smell her, for christ’s sake.  She smelled like Cape Cod and summer and god damn it.  Cereal.  Fuck. _

_ “What.”  Harry said, not very kindly. _

_ “I’m sorry if I...if I did something to upset you.”  Louis whispered, trailing light fingers over Harry’s arm — the one over her eyes — making Harry shiver. _

_ Slowly, she moved her arm and looked up at Louis’ face.  She looked worried and heartbreakingly gorgeous.  Always so gorgeous.  “You...you didn’t.  I’m just.  Fuck.  I’m just crabby.” _

_ Louis paused and stared down at Harry, her blue eyes searching out Harry’s.  Harry could kiss her, their mouths were so close like this.  If she just reached up...just a few inches… _

_ “You sure?”   _

_ And.  Harry could tell her.  Tell her everything. But.  What if Louis — what if she scared her away?  Louis was always so skittish whenever the subject of relationships and sex and even fucking crushes came up...it was strange to Harry to know so much about her friend but to not know the least bit about what she liked,  _ who  _ she liked, when it came to dating.  It seemed like they were always taking two steps forward and two steps back.  Harry never knew if they were coming or going.  It was confusing.  And it was starting to take its toll on her.  _

_ “You know what?”  Harry said, angry and defiant — she grimaced at her harsh tone — rolling away from Louis, and sliding off the bed.  “I’m...I’m gonna go out with Chris from my biology class tonight. She um...she said that Dinah’s has half priced drinks.” _

_ “Oh.” Louis said quietly, still laying across Harry’s bed.  And, oh god.  The visuals. _

_ “Yeah.  I need to get laid.”  Harry said the words and she could feel the weight of them hanging between them.  If Louis wanted to make a move now would be a good time.  A perfect time, actually. _

_ It was quiet as Harry stripped out of her sweats and tank top, her back to Louis.  She heard Louis exhale and get up.  She braced herself, already feeling — fervently hoping for — hands on her skin, and breath ghosting over her neck.  Instead she was met with a cool breeze as Louis walked out of the room. _

_ “Have fun.”  She heard as the door clicked shut.   _

_ Well fuck.  Pulling a fitted blouse and her tightest jeans from her closet, Harry thought to herself, fine.  That’s fine.  And she set about going out, getting drunk, and fucking the first girl that looked the furthest thing from Louis she could find. _

****

Louis couldn’t believe her nerve — the sheer  _ courage —  _ she had mustered to do this, to touch Harry, like this.  Her skin felt like a dream come true.  It felt better than ever before because this time,  _ this time _ , Louis was touching her with  _ intention —  _ with a goal.  Her throat was clogged with everything she wanted to tell Harry but couldn’t.  So she decided to show her instead.  

It had always been Harry — Harry haunting her days and nights, taking over her mind until all she could think about was Harry and her long legs and arms and her creamy skin that stretched across her lean torso.  Her bright, hoarse laugh and the way she always looked at Louis like a painful mystery waiting to be solved. Louis loved everything about Harry.  Her weird feet and the odd pigeon toed way she stood in front of the refrigerator when looking for a snack.  Her mouth and face and eyes and  _ god _ , her hands.  And, now, more than ever, Louis felt incapacitated by her need to just be close to her.  Distance had done nothing to quench the aching need she felt in her chest for the girl sitting next to her.  It’s always been Harry.     

When Harry had left for Chicago, Louis went into a tailspin.  She was working on her master’s degree and tried to hang out with some of her other friends.  She had other friends, she wasn’t a complete obsessive.  But none of them were Harry.  

The other thing Louis had to face was that she was, in fact, gay.  The way her heart, her mind, her soul — her  _ body  _ — ached for Harry proved that.  So did all the hooking up with girls she managed to do while so drunk off her ass she could barely remember her own name.  The last several months had been a blur of going out, drinking and picking up random girls to take home and fuck.  And none of them cured the soul-deep itch that Louis was beginning to recognize as the place inside her that was reserved for Harry and Harry alone.  All of the alcohol and sex — the blurry flashes of mouths, skin, bodies that she consumed — couldn’t replace Harry either.  None of it was Harry.

And now, sitting on the tiny seat high above the ground in the dark with fireworks exploding in front of them, Louis felt reckless.  She felt an almost unstoppable need to  _ touch _ .  She needed to get her hands on Harry,  _ all over _ Harry, as badly as she needed oxygen in her lungs.  She remembered what Harry sounded like when she was turned on all those years ago and she remembered the way her skin felt under Louis’ hands, hot and shaking and she wanted more.  

Louis had decided she couldn’t wait any longer.

***

_ “Fuck.  I’m so cold.”  Harry’s teeth were chattering and Louis felt helpless. _

_ “Haz.  Shit.  I’m so sorry.  It wasn’t supposed to be this cold.  We can — we can go back to campus?”   _

_ Harry turned in her sleeping back and faced Louis, the tip of her nose pink and her eyes red and runny.  Her breath came out in a minty plume between them when she spoke, “N — no.  Just.  Can we, like share body heat or something?  I’m so fucking cold.”  Proving the point, her body shivered uncontrollably, the force of it shaking Louis into action. _

_ “Yeah.  Yeah.  Let’s…”  Louis crawled out of her own bag and nudged at Harry.  “Let me have your bag — I’ll zip ‘em together.”   _

_ Harry shimmed out of her bag, her sweatshirt hanging off her wide shoulders and her flannel pajama pants drooping sadly over her thighs.  Louis moved quickly, her frozen fingers struggling with the zippers until she put the two bags together, spreading their new bed out on the floor of the second hand tent.   _

_ “K...I think...I’ll get in first then you climb in after, yeah?” _

_ “O — o — OK…”   _

_ Louis flashed Harry a guilty smile and crawled into the double sleeping bag.  What was she thinking?  Suggesting camping in April?  The weather had been glorious all week but, of course, once they got to the site and set up camp it started to fucking snow.  Snow.  Did they do the sensible thing and pack up?  No, of course not.  They built a fire and passed a bottle of Jim Beam back and forth until it was empty and sang Ani Difranco songs until they ran out of wood and Louis’ ass was so numb from the cold she couldn’t feel it anymore.   _

_ “Ok, now you.” _

_ Harry started to climb in and Louis opened her arms to her.  “Babe.  Your — your sweatshirt is soaked.” _

_ “I — I — know,” Harry chattered loudly, “From the snow…” _

_ “You gotta take it off.  That’s what’s making you so cold, babe.” _

_ In the dark of the tent, Harry’s eyes shone like black diamonds.  Louis felt Harry drag in a deep breath and then let it go, the heat of it covering Louis’ face, making her want to bury herself in it.  In the heat of Harry’s mouth, her hands, her skin.   _

_ “OK,” Harry finally whispered, sitting up again, taking the warmth of the sleeping bags with her.  Louis could just barely see her pull the thick, sodden shirt off of her thin frame, the darkness in the tent shrouding the movement, before she wriggled back under the downy blanket. _

_ Harry lay down with her back to Louis’ front, Louis slipping one hand under Harry’s waist and the other over her hip.  The smooth glide of Harry’s creamy skin under Louis’ hands and forearms felt like satin. So soft.  Louis adjusted her arms and hands so she could hold Harry loosely, willing the warmth from her body to take over Harry’s.  She flattened her palm out, intending to cover Harry’s stomach but Harry wriggled and Louis’ hand skimmed against the bottom half of her breast. _

_ “Harry.”  Louis whispered against the back of her neck.  “Are you...are you not wearing a bra?” _

_ Harry was still for a moment before she clasped Louis’ hand and pulled it slowly, agonizingly so, up over her chest so the other girl was cupping her full, bare breast.  “No.” she whispered. _

_ They sat very still for a moment, the tension between them like a rubber band, pulled and ready to snap.  Louis sighed and squeezed at Harry’s flesh, drawing a quiet, low moan from the other girl.  Harry didn’t say anything, just turned around again and ghosted her lips over Louis’, breathing into her mouth, the smell of whiskey and Harry’s smoky jasmine scent filling the space between them, “Is this ok?” _

_ “Yes.  Yes,  _ please _.”  Louis said, not thinking for once in her life — at least since she met Harry.  And maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the magic of Harry’s bare skin under her hands, but she was tired of overthinking, tired of pretending.  She  _ wanted  _ Harry.  Even if it was just for tonight. She didn’t want to think about what might happen tomorrow, what this might do to their friendship.  All she wanted was to drown in the feeling of Harry’s body on hers and the taste of her mouth.  All she wanted was to pretend that Harry was more than her best friend, that she could mean more to Harry than just a friend. _

****

“Lou…?” Harry’s voice broke and she trembled at the effort it took to sit still.  She didn’t want to move, didn’t want Louis to stop.  But...she was also incredibly confused.  

And aroused.

Louis squeezed her inner thigh, pinkie brushing up against the lace of Harry’s panties, and she whispered, “Sshh.”

Harry did what she was told.  She sat, quiet, practically unmoving for the rest of the fireworks.  Louis’ pinkie moved in small circles against her core, brushing against the lace creating the tiniest amount of friction.  Harry could feel herself getting wetter and wetter — she knew Louis had to feel it too and she wondered...was this turning Louis on too?  She felt hot all over, fire moving up her spine at a slow agonizing pace.  

What the  _ fuck  _ was happening?

The lights came back on and Louis kept her hand where it was, maddeningly close to where Harry wanted her most, but nowhere near close enough.  Louis straightened up but didn’t look at her.  Harry concentrated on not passing out.  As they lurched forward, making their way back down to the ground, Louis pushed her hand up even higher, three fingers pressing against Harry’s clit over the sheer lace of Harry’s underwear.

Harry leaned her head back against the cool metal of the seat and whined, low and quiet, but Louis heard.  “Sshh,” she hissed again, moving her fingers deeper until Harry could feel them slide against her, wetness coating the tips, soaking through the material.  

“ _ Louis _ .”  

“Sshh.”

Harry was getting ready to throttle the girl next to her.  She was going to need a lot more of an explanation than ‘sshh’.

Just as they swung down to the platform, Louis took her hand away, making Harry buck up seeking the missing friction immediately.  Her confusion had muddled her mind and made her hazy.  Harry thought she might cry.  She stole a look at her friend, but Louis was impassive, staring ahead at the lights skittering over Lake Michigan.  Harry bit her lip and tried to sort out her thoughts.  What was Louis thinking?  Was this going to be like the last time, in the tent, when Louis — both of them, really — pretended nothing had happened?  

Harry felt a heady mix of anger and confusion, mixed with betrayal and need stir in her gut.  The overwhelming lust and craving to be close to Louis, _to be_ _with_ Louis seemed to be winning the race though, the heat in her cheeks and the burning desire thrumming in her veins eclipsing everything else.  One thing was crystal clear, though — if Louis pulled what she did last time there would be hell to pay, Harry would make sure of that. 

“Home?”  Louis asked quietly.  

“Yeah…”  Harry cleared her throat, searching Louis’ face for a hint at something,  _ anything  _ that would tell her what was going on in her her pretty head.  “Yes.”

Louis nodded once and started walking toward the cab stand.  She reached out and took Harry’s hand in hers.  Harry felt her fingers reflexively close around Louis’, their bodies moulding together just like they always did.

****

_ They didn’t talk about it.  Of course they didn’t.  Whenever talk of attraction or relationships came up Louis couldn’t bring herself to admit her feelings to Harry.  Louis never seemed able to talk about how Harry made her feel like the brightest star in the night sky or the way the earth felt too small whenever they stood close or the way there were really no words to describe the way Louis’ skin felt like it would melt off of her bones whenever Harry touched her.   _

_ So Louis did what she did best.  She ignored it.   _

_ It was made easier when Harry made a few awkward jokes about how drunk she was and that she could hardly remember anything from the night before.  Louis stared at her for a moment and looked for a clue, a sign that told her what Harry was feeling and...there was nothing.  So, Louis bantered back, saying she was so hungover she’d be feeling it for days.   _

_ Except….Louis remembered everything.  She couldn’t stop reliving it for hours, days...weeks afterward. _

_ They had only kissed — spending the night wrapped up in each other, kissing to keep warm, and Louis kissed Harry to say everything she didn’t trust her mouth to utter.  Even though they didn’t talk about it, Louis’ remembered all of it.  She remembered the way Harry tasted and the way she sounded — letting out these pretty little sighs whenever Louis’ hands ran over the small of her back — and she especially remembered what it felt like to fall asleep next to the girl she’d been falling in love with over the past three years.   _

_ She remembered all of it.   _

_ That’s not to say Louis didn’t try to forget.  She did.  But, most of the time, it was like an itch at the back of her mind, the feeling like she was forgetting something important.  And then, when it all came roaring back, Louis was left feeling confused and sad, and even angry.  Angry at Harry for not confronting her, angry at herself for not figuring out how to get over her fears.  Usually, she comforted herself with the knowledge that Harry was her best friend.  And that was enough.  Usually.  Until it wasn’t. _

_ “Lou!”  Harry stormed into their shared apartment, flushed and excited, the cold winter air tickling Louis’ bare toes as she slammed the door. _

_ Louis looked up from her studying and smiled.  Harry looked like a snow angel.  There were white flakes in her glossy hair and her fluffy white beanie was askew on top of her head.  Her faux fur, cropped jacket, brushed the tops of her narrow hips like a lover’s hands.  Louis’ own hands itched with the urge to reach out and touch. _

_ “What’s up?” _

_ “Remember that girl I told you about?  The one that always comes into the student center?” _

_ Louis wracked her brain.  Girl...girl...girl.  “Oh right?  The blonde?” _

_ “Stella.  Her name is Stella.” _

_ “Stella?”  Louis felt a sense of dread crawl into her chest. _

_ “Stella.”  Harry repeated, her voice dreamy and distant.  Louis’ brain screamed at her to yank Harry back — get her back before she floated away.  Until she was gone forever. _

_ “Stella?” _

_ Harry tossed her coat and hat on the hooks near the door and raced over to the couch where Louis was sitting.  She flopped on Louis’ lap and grinned, wide and magical.  Louis smelled the familiar smoky cinnamon-vanilla scent of her and she blinked her eyes slowly as the fear in her chest started to curl around her heart like a vice. _

_ “Oh god, Lou.  She’s so...amazing.  She’s sweet and funny.  And so fucking smart.  She asked me about my mug--you know the one you got me for Christmas last year?” _

_ Louis knew the mug.  It was the Dr. Who one.  It was their thing, Dr. Who.  Jealousy zipped up her spine, careening around inside her skull like a bullet.   _

_ “She can quote every episode and  _ fuck _.  She’s brilliant.”   _

_ And, oh shit.  Harry was different this time...her eyes were lit from behind with an excitement over this girl, in a different way than they ever had been before.  Sure, there were times she would describe — in way too much detail for Louis’ taste —  a hookup or a pretty girl she’d seen on campus.  But this was different.  She was enamored with this... _ Stella _.  And Louis felt  _ threatened _.  Her mind was screaming at her to do something, anything.  But she felt paralyzed.  Her fear of rejection, and fear of finally admitting who she was, keeping her firmly rooted in place.   _

_ Even though they never talked about it, what happened in the tent, Louis had held a small kernel of hope in her chest that someday it would happen again.  Or that, someday, she would work up the courage to tell Harry how she felt.  But...whenever she thought the moment was right, Harry would go out with other friends and bring someone home or show up the next morning with love bites littering her pale skin, bleary eyed and irritable.  Still...Louis felt like maybe, every time Harry touched at her or looked at her like  _ that _ , maybe things might turn out the way she wanted.  But that never seemed to happen.   _

_ A small, darker place inside of Louis thought she wasn’t good enough for Harry.  Harry, who could light up a room with her smile — who took up every corner of Louis’ life with impossible brightness.  What if Harry was just placating her, feeling sorry for Louis, poor Louis who never dated anyone — never found anyone she liked well enough to spend time with, other than Harry, of course.  The truth was, Louis didn’t feel like she needed to date anyone else because Harry was enough for her.  Harry filled Louis in more ways than Louis could count.  It was a double edged sword though, loving someone so much, so desperately — so soul-crushingly — but never being able to kiss them, touch them the way that she wanted to.  It was like living half a life, always waiting for the other half to begin.   _

_ And it never did.  _

_ In the end, after everything — the regret, the hope, the misery — Louis just wanted Harry to be happy and if being with someone like Sarah or Samantha or what’s-her-name did it for her she didn’t want to stand in her way.  The clutch of dread loosened inside Louis’ chest, replaced by a dripping sadness, drenched in a blackish, navy melancholy.  Louis smiled weakly and pulled Harry down on top of her, laying back on the sofa.  Brushing her lips over Harry’s forehead she said, defeated and resigned, “Tell me about her.” _

_ **** _

Harry wasn’t sure of anything anymore.  They were sitting in a cab, flying up Lake Shore Drive and Harry’s hand was in Louis’ and she could hardly breathe — she was so uncertain and turned on and overwhelmed and just...what the fuck was going on?  At the moment she was resisting the urge to climb into Louis’ lap and  _ demand  _ she fuck the living daylights out of her.  

Louis handed the cabbie a few bills when they pulled in front of Harry’s building and Harry moved like she were wading through water.  The air was so heavy and wet, July’s tempest pressing in all around them, and, combined with the confusion clouding her mind, Harry wasn’t even sure she was walking into her building.  

Louis seemed certain, though, as she pulled Harry up the walk, toward her door. Toward where, hopefully, some answers lay.

Harry fumbled with the lock and when she finally pushed the door in, the cold air from the small tiled lobby covered her damp skin, making her break out in goosebumps.  Louis was so, so quiet.  And, for Harry, that made things feel even more surreal.  Louis was  _ never  _ quiet.  She was always quick to have a sarcastic remark or a witty observation. And Harry, Harry, was always eager to tell Louis everything, to fill the silence with her words so that Louis would laugh, would smile, would notice her.

For years it had been that way.  Until it wasn’t.  

Harry had thought, after that night in the tent, that things could finally move forward,  _ change _ , between her and Louis.  The next morning was full of awkward glances and hurried exchanges, the biting cold making it impossible to talk, to linger.  They had driven back to campus in relative quiet, Louis falling asleep about ten minutes into the two hour drive.  Harry remembered making a few feeble attempts at getting Louis to say something about it but to no avail.  And so, life moved on.  Harry tried her damndest to provoke Louis, to get her to talk about it, about them, but Louis never took the bait.  When she told Louis about Stella, and Louis didn’t react at all, she had thought, well, this is it.  She doesn’t like me the same way I like her.  And she moved on.

At least she tried to.  Louis was always the “what if” in her life and it didn’t matter what happened, Harry compared everyone she dated to Louis.  No one was as smart, as funny, as fucking  _ sexy  _ as Louis.  It was no wonder none of her relationships lasted.  The worst part of it was that Louis didn’t seem to notice.  She was always there, supporting Harry, but there was something between them after the night in the tent.  Something that felt awkward and dark, unresolved, until it felt too big to ignore.

Harry knew that Louis had a strained relationship with her family — her brothers were overbearing and her mother was a devout Catholic, making Louis the black sheep of the family, if only because she tended to think more broadly, more out of the box.  But whenever Harry had brought up Louis’ family and how Louis needed a separate identity from them Louis brushed her off, ignored her — sometimes even getting angry with her.

So, the thing between them grew and Harry felt powerless to change it, to even talk about it.  

Of course Harry chose to move away then — move to Chicago.  Because dealing with it, risking the threat of being rejected or, worse yet, losing her friendship with Louis because of her feelings for the other girl, was just too big.  Too scary.  Moving away from Louis, not seeing her agonizingly beautiful face every day, seemed to be the only recourse.  

It only made it worse.  

Not seeing her, and only talking to her or texting her, made the hole in her heart grow like a fucking cancer until it was so big, so unmoveable Harry couldn’t breathe when it came to thinking about Louis.  Harry was lost without her.  But Louis?  Louis seemed to be moving on with her life just fine.  When they did talk, Louis rambled about her master’s program and the friends she’d made — the friends she’d made without Harry — and all the fun she was having.  Without Harry.

The girls she was fucking.

It hurt.  

Which is why, when Louis called last week and announced she was coming for a visit — her first since December, Harry had felt...hopeful?  Reservedly excited?  Even if it was selfishly just to see Louis’ face again — the way her cheekbones defied possibility and how her mouth always looked perfect and kissable.  And how her ass always looked like it needed Harry’s hands on it...

It had sparked something inside Harry that she thought had been long extinguished.  It made her hopeful.  And then she berated herself for it.  Followed closely by feeling enraged.  Who was Louis to think she could just waltz into her life when she felt like it?  Harry was a grown woman now.  With a career.  A life.  She was busy. She was moving on.

She really wasn’t though.  

She was a lost cause.  Lost to Louis and what she held in her heart — what she hoped, prayed, for.  For a future together.

They walked up the flight of stairs and Harry let them into the apartment.  She stood inside the doorway, her back to Louis, collecting her thoughts. There were a million words on her tongue, a thousand questions.  She wanted to ask Louis what was happening?  Why now?  What did it mean?  

But more than anything she wanted to ask Louis why she gave up.  On her.  On them.  

****

_ “You’re  _ what _?” _

_ “I...I accepted the job, Lou.  I’m moving.” _

_ Louis felt her heart hammering in her chest.  She suddenly thought she was going to be sick.  This couldn’t be happening.   _

_ “When?”  Her voice was quiet, but she thought she did a good job hiding the terror she was feeling at the thought of Harry leaving — leaving her. _

_ “At the end of the month.”  Harry looked at Louis carefully, her eyes wide and serious.  She looked like she wanted to say something else, but, like always, she didn’t.  Neither did Louis.  _

_ It had gotten to the point where they could hardly talk to one another any more, the loaded silences were charged with so much, too much.  All of the unsaid words, the declarations of unrequited love, pulled Louis down like a leaden weight, threatening to drag her under if she even began to recognize them.  But Harry leaving?  That felt like a dagger piercing the tender skin of her bruised heart.  How would she live, breathe, without her? _

_ “Congratulations Haz.”  Louis said, fake cheerfulness filling the space between them.   _

_ Harry dragged a hand through her thick hair and gave Louis a half smile.  “Yeah?” _

_ “Yeah, of course, H.  I’m happy for you.  It’s what you’ve always wanted.”  Louis stood up from her desk and pulled Harry into her arms, inhaling the rich smoky smell of her.  She blinked back tears as she felt her heart breaking again.  “You’ll be great.  You’ll do great?” _

_ Harry swayed in her arms and for a moment Louis let herself pretend.  She let herself pretend that this was her life, that Harry was hers.  Closing her eyes, Louis swallowed her anguish and fear and just felt the warmth of Harry’s skin, the tickle of her breath against her neck and the soft, soft way she just fit inside of Louis’ embrace. _

_ **** _

Harry took a deep breath and started to turn around when she felt Louis’ hands on her hips, her breasts against the center of her back, between her shoulder blades.  “This ok?”

“I…”

Louis slipped one hand around to Harry’s front, under her tank, so that her hand splayed over the curve of her tummy.  The other one trailed up Harry’s bare arm until she got to her neck.  She gently moved Harry’s thick humidity ravaged curls to one side.  Harry felt lips ghost over the juncture of her neck and shoulder and she drew in a sharp breath.

“Is this ok?” Louis asked again.

“Louis.  I…”  Harry couldn't think straight, let alone talk at that moment.

“You had to know, Haz…”

Louis’ hand pressed firmer against Harry’s fevered skin, dipping lower until a few of her fingers slipped under the low slung waist of her jean shorts.  

“Know what?”  Harry whispered, and she thought she knew — she hoped she knew, but she needed to hear it from Louis.  A confirmation of what it meant.  What all of it meant.  What all of the longing looks meant, the soft burning touches.  The way Louis always said goodbye to her like it was destroying a piece of her to even say the word.  The way that Louis’ eyes lingered on her mouth, her face, her eyes...always like she couldn’t bear to look away, as if doing so would take her out of Harry’s orbit, send Louis reeling into a gravity-less abyss.  All of the years, the confusion, the back and forth between them.  Harry could feel it evaporating with every breath she took.

Louis kissed Harry’s neck softly, just a brush of lips against tender, sensitive skin, but to Harry it felt like a match dropping with a soaring, sonic blast in a ravaged forest.  It burned.  It destroyed her.  It made her  _ want _ .

Turning in Louis’ arms, Harry found Louis’ mouth, diving in with a ferocity she didn’t know she possessed.  Louis gasped but hung on, her small hands grappling with Harry’s hips, sliding lower so that she could cup Harry’s ass and drag her closer.  Harry backed Louis up to the door and boxed her in, tangling their tongues so that they could kiss deeply, fervently.

The kiss spoke of all the years wasted between them, the hurt feelings, the loss, the anger — all of it.  In Louis’ kiss Harry could taste regret and apology and renewal.  It made Harry feel like her feet had completely left the earth and like her body wasn't her own anymore.  She couldn’t trust herself to speak, she just kissed. 

Louis tasted a bit like the beer they’d drank earlier and like hot summer nights and like diving in, head first, into a blue, blue lake.  She tasted like new beginnings.  But mostly, she tasted exactly how Harry remembered — like Louis.

Louis bit down on Harry’s bottom lip, making her moan and cry out.  “Fuck.  Louis —  _ what _ ?”

“I’ve wanted you for so long, Harry.  God.”

Harry tilted her head back as Louis kissed down her neck, mouthing and licking and biting hot fire into Harry’s bloodstream.  Harry slipped a knee between Louis’ legs and she groaned when she could feel wetness seeping through Louis’ thin leggings.  “Fuck,  _ Lou _ .  You’re...you’re so wet.”

“Drive me crazy.”  Louis pushed Harry backward, kneading her ass and biting down on her collar bone.  It felt like Harry was burning from the inside out, the need to get naked, to bare herself to Louis, the girl she’d loved for so long now, unbearable.

“Clothes.  Take off.  _ Clothes _ .”  Harry was losing the thread — madness creeping into her mind, taking over, willing her to just give in to every instinct, every desire.

Louis giggled and pushed Harry toward the futon.  “Can you open this thing up?  I think I’m gonna need some room for what I wanna do.”

Harry stared at Louis and could feel her heart jackrabbit in her chest.   _ God _ .  This was really happening.  She and Louis.   _ They  _ were happening.  She watched Louis peel off her t-shirt, leaving her in a black lace bra.  Her mouth watered a little when she saw Louis’ nipples, sharp and eager, pointing through the thin material.  

“Louis.  You’re so…”  she breathed out, suddenly itching to get her hands on Louis.   _ All over _ Louis.  “Fucking beautiful,” she whispered, eyes filling with bitter tears, her body lurching forward so she could touch, feel, explore.  She made quick work of the lacy bra, leaving Louis bare so she could run her fevered hands all over her small, curvy body.  

God.  She felt so good.  Her skin was smooth and hot and felt like wildfire in her arms.  Harry couldn’t get enough.  She kissed her deep and hard, feeling the urgent need to erase all of the wasted time.  To just  _ feel  _ Louis.  Devour her whole and unadulterated.  

Louis tangled her hands in Harry’s unruly curls and pulled her down so she could control the kiss.  Their mouths met again and again and it felt like coming home to Harry — and how could that be?  How could she have missed kissing her when they only just kissed a moment before?  Illogical as it was, it felt right.  It felt perfect and hot and riddled with an intensity that made Harry want to crawl inside the smaller girl in her arms.  

Louis broke the kiss to take Harry’s shirt off.  Her hands immediately flew to the clasp at the back of Harry’s bra and she undid the straps.  “Open up the fucking futon.”  Louis growled, releasing Harry.  Harry felt excitement flood through her lower extremities as she quickly pulled the lever under the frame so the bed popped out, expanding to its full size.  

While Harry was bent over Louis pressed up behind her, grinding her pelvis flush to Harry’s ass  “ _ Fuck _ .  Wanna fuck you like this, Hazza.  Can I…?  Not tonight.  But soon?  Can I?”

“ _ Jesus Christ, Lou _ ,” Harry moaned, standing upright and reaching behind her to grab at the back of Louis’ head, pulling her short hair so that Louis ground into her, biting at her neck and breathing hotly over Harry’s sweat damp skin.  “You — you’re killing me.”

“It’s been a long time coming,” Louis whispered, hot mouth tracing wet kisses down Harry’s neck, reaching around her front to cup her breasts in her hands.  As she teased Harry’s nipples, twisting and pulling them  _ just  _ this side of too rough, Harry lost herself for a moment — the feeling of Louis on her, behind her, all over her.  It was so much.  So fucking much.

“Pillows?”  Louis said, urgent in Harry’s ear.    

Harry turned and, reattaching their mouths, she slipped her hands inside Louis’ waistband and pushed the thin material down over the full swell of the other girl’s ass.  Hot mounds of firm flesh filled her hands and Harry moaned at how good it felt.  Better than she could have ever imagined — Louis’ ass having been the object of many of Harry’s fantasies for the past five years.  

“The trunk — “ Harry gasped when Louis sucked hard at the spot under her ear.  “Pillows.  The  _ trunk _ .”

Louis pivoted, opening the trunk and yanking the pillows out.  She threw them to the bed and pushed Harry down on top of it.  Harry cried out when her back hit the firm mattress, surprised at the savage way Louis manhandled her.  

It was all kinds of hot.

Louis pulled Harry’s shorts and underwear off in one smooth motion, leaving her open and bare to her hungry eyes.  Louis looked down at her, crawling between her legs, solemn and wide eyed.  “God.  Harry.  You’re so beautiful.  I’ve never...There’s — there’s never — It’s always been you.  Just you.  I’ve — “ her voice cracked and she blinked slowly, “I’ve only ever wanted you.”

“Louis.  Fuck.  Me too.  Only you,” Harry gasped, thinking about all of the mixed signals, the lonely nights, the jealous moments of thinking about Louis with her new friends, new girls who weren’t Harry.  Thinking about how Louis never seemed to date anyone seriously, only a few mystery flings throughout their years of friendship — how nothing seemed to stick, no one seemed to be interesting enough to catch Louis’ attention.  

Louis smiled softly and kissed over Harry’s belly, just above her navel.  She kissed her way up Harry’s sternum, hands cupping her breasts again and rolling her nipples between her fingertips.  Harry whined and wrapped her legs around Louis’ hips, bucking up in search of something, anything.  “ _ Louis _ .”

Finally, face to face with Harry, Louis stared down at her.  Harry felt pinned in place, the heat in Louis’ eyes fierce and hot, smoldering.  Overwhelmed, and needing a reprieve from that searching gaze, Harry closed her eyes, pulled Louis’ face to hers, and kissed over Louis’ delicate cheekbones.  She let her hands slide down Louis’ narrow shoulders and over her spectacular bum, kissing over the shell of her ear and down the column of her neck.  A thrill shot right through her at the fact that they were actually here.   _ Doing this _ .  

Louis whined and trembled, shaking in Harry’s arms.  Harry pulled back so she could look up into her friend’s eyes.  Louis looked scared and overwhelmed and so, so gone — her eyes dark and full of fiery lust.   

“‘S ok.  I’ve got you.  Sshh.”  Harry whispered, kissing Louis’ lips softly, feeling the way her own mouth fit over Louis’ perfectly, the gentle butterfly wing softness of it heartbreaking. 

Louis nodded and opened her eyes, looking directly into Harry’s.  “I’ve dreamed about this for so long — you —”  her voice broke, the most painful sound Harry could imagine.  And Harry knew one thing and one thing only — and that was the soul-deep knowledge that she never wanted to see Louis sad ever again.  It was quickly becoming her life’s fucking  _ mission  _ to make Louis Tomlinson happy.  

Starting now.

Harry kissed Louis quiet then, collecting the sadness from her mouth and dispelling it.  She replaced it, instead, with desire and want and  _ reverence _ .  She wanted Louis so badly, had for as long as she could remember, and she couldn't —  _ wouldn’t  _ —  wait anymore.  They’d waited too long.  They’d wasted too much time.

Kissing turned into hot breath panting into each other’s mouths, which turned into writhing and biting, licking hotly over skin until Harry was swimming in the unbridled desire of just  _ wanting  _ Louis.  She flipped them over, making Louis cry out, her hips bucking up into the heat of Harry’s stomach.  

“What do you want?”  Harry said, her voice hoarse and low, legs pushing Louis’ open, wider, so wide that she could feel the hot, wet heat of Louis pressing up against her center.  Louis was a  _ vision  _ — her cheeks flushed and eyes wild.  Her mouth was red from kissing and there were bite marks all over the caramel of her neck and chest where Harry had lost herself in the taste and feel of her.

“Just want you — so  _ fucking  _ — “ Louis moaned when Harry slipped her hand between them, long middle finger finding Louis’ core with deadly precision.   “Fuck  _ yes _ . Harry.”

“Louis.   _ God _ .  You — you’re so  _ wet _ ,” Harry whispered against Louis’ mouth in wonder, so turned on, so delirious with need.

God knows Harry had had enough time to dream about this moment — to imagine it — all those years of wanting Louis.  She didn’t want to waste any more time, and from the way Louis felt between her legs, under Harry’s hand, it was clear Louis couldn’t wait much longer either.  

Ducking her head, she found one of Louis nipples and pulled it into her mouth, sucking hard.  Louis arched her back and let out a gorgeous, long, drawn out moan.  Spurred on by the reaction, Harry bit down playfully and rolled her tongue all over the hardened nub.  Her hand was still between Louis’ legs, sliding back and forth in the slick wetness there, running all over Louis’ clit and in between her folds.  Harry could —  _ christ _ , she could  _ smell  _ her, and she smelled so good.  Sweet and bitter, like summer air just before it stormed.  And  _ god _ .  She wanted to  _ taste _ .

She switched sides, to Louis’ other breast, and licked out over the waiting nipple.  Louis’ hands were in her hair and her hips were rolling up into Harry’s hand and her mouth was open and she sounded like heaven.  Better than Harry could have ever imagined — raspy moans and desperate pants and glorious, glorious high pitched whines.  

“Harry.  My god.  Oh my  _ god _ .”  Louis arched her back, causing Harry’s finger to slide inside of her warm, wet body once again.  And fuck.  It felt amazing. 

****

Harry was fucking her.  Harry’s finger was inside of her and she was  _ fucking  _ her.  And her mouth was on her and her skin was on her and Louis thought she was going to evaporate into thin air it felt so good — it...it felt like  _ everything _ .  

Louis’ mind was reeling with how she got from sitting in her apartment downstate last week to this point, where she was right now.  Something inside of her snapped when she had seen that picture of Harry on Facebook holding that cat — that fucking stray cat of hers, smiling that big cheesy grin with the dimple and everything.  And Louis just.

She was just so tired, was the thing.  Tired of pretending and trying to get over Harry when she never even had her in the first place.  So she decided to do something about it.  After five long years of wanting, and waiting, and pretending, she decided to do something.

She texted Harry that she was coming to visit, and Harry agreed.  It was as simple as that.  

Except.  Not really.

She hadn’t slept all week, had barely eaten and couldn’t stop thinking — no,  _ obsessing  _ — about Harry.  Everything Harry did was like a direct connect to Louis’ fucking soul or something.

Harry posted a picture on Instagram of a black and white bicycle and Louis’ heart shattered into a million pieces.  Harry sent Louis a text with the poop emoji followed by a container of kitty litter  and Louis’ couldn’t stop thinking about her smile and the way she smelled.  Harry snap chatted a protest in Grant Park with the top of her head in the lower half of the frame and Louis lost half a day thinking about how strange Harry’s feet are and how she only ate one brand of granola.

Obsessed.  

It was enough to make Louis think she had well and truly lost her mind. 

She couldn’t help it when she walked into Harry’s apartment and started fantasizing about laying Harry out on her bed, and making love to her for hours,  _ for days _ if Harry would let her.  She couldn’t stop staring at the way her lips looked — so soft and pink and perfect.  She couldn’t stop herself when, after touching Harry’s knee on the ferris wheel, she had to have more — more of that skin and that heat and just...Harry.  

“Harry — I’m...I’m close,” Louis panted, clutching at Harry’s hair and pulling her up to her face because she had to kiss her, had to or she would positively  _ die _ .  

Harry kept working her finger in deeper and deeper, reaching that spot inside that had Louis’ toes curling and her breath coming faster and faster and her heartbeat pounding erratically in her chest, like a tribal drum beating on and on and on...She was hot and sweaty and was completely lost to the euphoria of Harry’s hands, her mouth.  Harry’s fingers were long and skilled and they felt so good inside her, filling her up exactly how she needed, wanted.  

Harry’s mouth was on hers and it was messy and wet and Harry’s teeth were big and everywhere.  And Louis wanted so much.  She was flying, and twisting and floating on a rainbow of color while light exploded behind her eyes and then she was crying out, Harry pushing another finger in alongside the first, breathing Louis’ air and chanting her name and then…

Louis was falling over the edge, shaking and shouting Harry’s name, the sound raw and riddled with need and something that sounded like relief and desire and finally, finally, like home.   _ Refuge _ .  

Harry kissed her through it, lips soft and sweet, whispering how good she was, how beautiful she was...how much she wanted her, how she had waited so long, all her life, for Louis. For this.  

And Louis, Louis believed her.

****

Louis was hot and tight and wet and perfect around Harry’s fingers and Harry thought she could come just from the sound of her — raspy and high and so, so lovely.  Thought she could come just from the way Louis clenched around her fingers and the wet, wet sound of her.

“God.   _ Baby _ .  You feel so good.  You’re so beautiful.  So fucking gorgeous.  Could fuck you like this all the time.   _ God _ .”  Harry babbled on and on in her ear until the the girl underneath her could breathe again.  She sucked Louis’ earlobe into her mouth and then licked along the sharp cut of her jawline. 

Leaning back, Harry was stunned at how precious and fragile Louis looked.  Her face was...like  _ art _ , porcelain perfection, all blue eyes and pink cheeks and ruby red mouth.  Louis bit her lip and whispered, “Want you.”

“I’m yours,” Harry said, meaning to make a joke of it, but instead, she sounded deadly serious, her voice steady and earnest — giving her away.  

Louis’ eyes widened.  “Do you mean that?”

Harry didn’t have to think before she answered, “Yes.  Always.”  

Louis kissed her again, tender and slow, the soft curl of her tongue reaching inside of Harry, making her whine from how achingly sweet it was.  “ _ Louis _ .”

“Let me — let me take care of  you?”  Louis asked, the request plaintive, clear, and so, so pure.

Harry sighed into the other girl’s mouth, her body coiled in heat, “ _ Please _ .”

Louis shifted so that Harry could lie alongside her and just as the heat of her body was about to cover Harry, Louis started giggling, hiding her face on Harry’s chest, soft hair tickling her skin.

“ _ What _ ?”  Harry started to sit up, alarmed, when Louis pushed her back down again.  

Covering her mouth, blue eyes twinkling, Louis said, “There’s...there’s a  _ cat _ !  Staring at me!”  

Harry turned her head sharply and saw Lucifer sitting on the edge of the mattress, feline lips pulled back in a snarl, ears back and tail puffed.  She looked like she was about to pounce.  

On Louis.  

“Oh my god!”  Harry shrieked, waving her hand in the cat’s direction.  “Shoo!  Shoo Lucy!”  

The cat just sneered at them and Louis squawked, “He really hates me.”

“He’s just jealous,” Harry said, irritated, but unable to hide broad smile sneaking over her face.

Louis blew a big gust of air toward the cat, who sniffed the air with great arrogant flourish.  Finally, the scrawny cat turned and jumped to the ground with a thud, but not before hissing loudly at Louis, who was shaking with laughter on top of Harry’s body.  

“I can’t believe — your  _ cat  _ —” 

Harry shook her head and hid her eyes behind her arm, embarrassed and frankly, kind of pissed at her cat for cock blocking her.  Well.  Pussy blocking her.

“Hey,  _ hey _ .”  Louis pulled her arm away and was smiling down at her and suddenly, all Harry could see was Louis. Louis and her bright blue eyes and the way her dark lashes fanned across her rosy cheeks and she saw flashes — memories — of their years together as friends, as more than friends.  As everything. 

Louis laughing on the beach, the city skyline behind her, framing her pretty face in steel and concrete.  Louis bent over a book, glasses perched on the edge of her nose, a pencil bitten and dented between her teeth.  Louis stealing sips of her margarita when they were in Mexico over spring break, her shoulders brown from the sun, the baseball cap on her head casting her face in shadow.  Louis, Louis, Louis.

It’s always been Louis.  

“Louis,” Harry whispered, opening her mouth, her legs, her entire fucking world to the woman on top of her.  

And that was it.

Louis was kissing her like her life depended on it and all Harry could think was  _ fuck me, fuck me _ , and  _ please, please, please _ .  

Hot and insistent, Louis dragged her mouth down Harry’s torso, hands skating all over her skin, leaving a trail of desire like a fast moving steam train.  Harry opened her legs wider, welcoming Louis in,  _ aching  _ for her.  When Louis finally, finally pulled Harry’s hips up, pushing a pillow under her bum, Harry whined, the need to be filled, to be touched, driving these  _ sounds  _ out of her.  Louis nuzzled her face into the hair between Harry’s legs and she moaned, clutching at the thick tops of Harry’s thighs, pushing her chin deeper, coating herself in wetness.  

“Fuck, Haz.  You smell so good...and  _ this _ ?”  She yanked on some of the dark pubic hair, fluffing out above Harry’s cunt, making Harry cry out.  “So fucking hot.”

Harry grabbed at Louis’ hair, trying to push her lower, deeper, get her where she needed her —  _ wanted her _ — most.  She was burning up with it, with the frenzy of want, completely and totally lost to it.  Everything was reduced down to that one thing, that one place where she was rooted to the here and now.  Nothing,not even gravity, could drag her away from the devastating pull of desire that coursed through her veins in that moment.  

“Can’t wait to get my mouth on you,” Louis hissed, sliding lower and breathing, hot and wet over her center.

“Lou.   _ Please _ .  I can’t — “ 

Louis fucked her tongue inside of Harry and Harry screamed from the heat of it, the absurd  _ exquisiteness  _ of it.  Louis groaned and screwed her tongue in deeper wrapping one arm around Harry’s thigh and bringing her thumb to her clit.  She pressed down and moved the pad of her finger against the hardened nub, moving in circles, slurping and using her tongue, her lips, her teeth…

“Shit!   _ Louis… _ ”

Louis doubled her efforts and within seconds Harry could feel the crescendo building — like an effusive symphony rising and rising through the rafters of a cathedral, building toward something bigger than what can be contained by the human heart.  She squeezed her legs around Louis’ face, feeling the heat of her cheeks against the cool skin of her inner thighs and she was falling.  

Hard and fast, Harry came, crying out Louis’ name over and over again while she fisted the pillow case underneath her.  She gasped for air and felt Louis licking her clean, the small pointed flicks of her tongue sending shock waves through her.  Her entire body fell limp, spent — used.  

God.  _ Louis _ .

Louis crawled back up her body and accosted her mouth, pushing the taste of her inside, smearing Harry’s scent, her wetness all over her face. Harry moaned into the kiss, dirty, filthy and so obscene.  It was perfect.

Louis flopped down next to her, leaving her hand on her chest, right over the place where her heart beat, true and fast. 

Harry rolled her head to the side and could see Louis smirking at her.  “What?”

“Nothing.”

“No.  It’s something.  What?”

“It’s just.  You…”

“What?”  Harry asked, louder this time.  The smell of sex was everywhere and it was making Harry dizzy with want.  Sex with Louis was going to be addictive — she could tell that already.  

“You sound so fucking hot when you come.”

Harry ducked her head down, hiding her face in Louis’ neck.  “Shut up.”

“No, I mean it!”  Louis laughed.  “You do.  And  _ god _ .  I wanna hear it again.”

Harry looked up at Louis, their eyes catching and sharing a lifetime of memories — most of which hadn’t happened yet.  “Yeah.  I — I wanna too.”

“Good.  It’s settled then.”

“Settled.”  Harry whispered, already falling deeper into the clear blue of Louis gaze.

Harry let Louis kiss her, slow and deep, the feeling of their mouths coming together like sweet relief, the taste of Louis — of her own arousal —  flooding her senses, making her sink deeper into the perfect feeling of this is how it should be —  _ this is how it should always be _ .

Harry felt everything she ever wanted slide into place.  It was perfect.  It was exactly how she always pictured it.  But, never in her wildest dreams did she think it would come true.  Never did she let herself believe that this could be hers. Something was poking at the edge of her consciousness, though, and she needed to say something, before the moment was lost.  She couldn’t risk everything again, not when there was so much to say.  She’d never hold her tongue with Louis again, not when they had come so far. 

“Lou...Louis…”  Harry broke away from the kiss, dragging her lips away from Louis felt like severing an arm, it was so good to be kissing her like this,  _ finally _ .  

Louis whined and chased her, nosing up the column of her neck, panting breathlessly as she kissed over Harry’s hot skin.  While they were kissing Louis had managed to roll Harry on to her back and had eased herself on top of her again.  Her leg was between Harry’s, her thick thigh pressing up against Harry’s wet heat once again.  Harry was still coming down from the first orgasm and she was already reeling and ready to go again.  And, fuck, it was hard to think with Louis’ body on hers. 

“Babe.  We need to — “ Louis bit down gently on the sensitive skin of Harry’s neck, making Harry moan and writhe with the pleasure pain of it.  “We need to talk,” Harry half said, half moaned.

Louis licked over the bite mark and sucked on the same spot, pulling Harry’s skin between her lips, creating a hot, wet suction that felt phenomenal.  “Talking is overrated,” she groaned, her own wetness smearing over Harry’s thigh.  

“It is, I agree...but…” Harry gently pushed at Louis’ shoulders so that Louis was forced to look at her.  “We really should....”

“Talk.  I get it.”  Louis exhaled with a slight roll of her eyes as she moved back to the side, pulling Harry to face her.  “But I just want it to be said that I don’t agree with the timing of this —” she dragged her fingertips over Harry’s collar bones and then down over the swell of her breast, stopping to tease Harry’s nipple, “one bit.” 

Harry bit her lip and watched as Louis’ eyes grew even more dark than they already were.  She tried to ignore the heat that was growing in her belly.  Louis looked absolutely debauched — her hair a mess and her eyes glassy and her mouth wet and pink.  She was lovely.  In the hottest, most electrifying of ways.

“Talk.”  Louis ordered, no bite behind her words.  She rested her hand on Harry’s bare hip, the weight of it like a talisman, keeping Harry solidly on the ground.  

Harry inhaled and gave Louis a small, sheepish smile.  “I just...I need to know what’s going on here.  For real.  Like.  I don’t want us to not talk about it.  Because…” her voice broke, the pain and uncertainty creeping in, unbidden and raw.

“Hey, hey…”  Louis pulled her closer, their bodies slotting together effortlessly, the way they always had.  “It’s ok.  It’s ok.  Haz — I’m here.”

Harry looked up at Louis, feeling the emotion in her words, seeing it in her eyes.  “I just.   _ Fuck _ .  I’ve loved you for a long time.”  

And there it was.  The words came out in a rush of hot air and Harry couldn’t take them back even if she tried.  She  _ did  _ love Louis.  Had loved her pretty much from the moment she first laid eyes on her.  Now that the words were out and Louis was looking at her with that piercing blue gaze of hers Harry was suddenly horrified because  _ holy fuck _ she finally said it.

Louis blinked slowly, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.  Harry watched as her best friend processed the words she just said.  “Are you — Harry, are you sure?”

“Louis!  Of course I’m sure.  Why would you —?”  Red hot anger flared up inside of her, making Harry want to shake Louis because...

Louis ducked her head down and buried her face in Harry’s neck, her small frame shaking while she...what the fuck?  Was she  _ laughing _ ?

“Louis!”  Harry cried out, indignant, pushing Louis away from her so she could get a better look at her face.  “Are you — are you  _ laughing  _ at me?”

Louis giggled and wiped a few tears away from her shining blue eyes.  “Yes!  But —- I’m not...I’m not laughing at  _ you _ !  I'm laughing at  _ us _ !”

Harry stared at her for a moment and wracked her brain.  “I...I don’t understand?”

Louis propped herself up on and looked down at Harry, brushing a few errant curls away from her face.  “I’m laughing at us because we are so fucking stupid.”

“Hey!  Speak for yourself!” Harry defended herself, but felt her mouth split into a wide grin.  “Why do you say that?”

Louis leaned down and pressed her lips to Harry’s, once, chaste and simple, but full of so much devotion.  “Because, you ass, I’ve loved you  _ forever _ .  Longer than forever.  I’ve...I just. I love you a lot”  

The air stilled around them and their eyes locked, the heat of the moment and every moment to come fusing them together like some kind of cosmic yin and yang.  Harry watched tears gather in the corner of Louis’ eyes and she wiped them away with gentle fingers.  

“I just.  I’ve been scared.  And I couldn’t — didn’t know how to talk to you about it?”  Louis breathed out and watched Harry closely, her eyes roaming her face.  

Harry traced lines down the smooth plane of Louis’ back and said, “Your family?”

Nodding, Louis replied, “Yeah. And.  Other stuff.  But, yeah.  I was just.  Scared.”

“And now.”

“Still scared.  But…” she looked deep into Harry’s eyes and for a moment Harry could see all of it — the past, the present, the future — all bound up together in one miraculous life. With Louis.  “I’ll be ok.  We’ll be ok.”

“We will,” Harry assured her. 

It was quiet then, the sound of their breathing and one of the cats drinking from the water bowl in the kitchn.  Still staring up into Louis’ tranquil sea blue eyes Harry said, “You love me?”

“Yeah.  A lot.”

Harry brought their mouths together then because suddenly, nothing else mattered anymore, not their insecurities or how idiotic they’d been as kids — they were kids when they met, after all — none of it mattered.  All that mattered was  _ now _ .  What was happening right now, with the midnight sky out Harry’s window and the way Harry could feel Louis’ breath quickening against her lips.  All that mattered was the soft slide of Louis’ skin and the way her hands were in her hair and her body was just so open, so pliant for Harry to just  _ take _ .  

All that mattered was the way that Louis was starting to moan into her mouth and the way her need was filling up every crevice, every space between them.  All Harry could think about was fucking Louis again and again and again.  But even more, all Harry could think about was showing Louis how much she loved her.  Until all that remained was a new beginning.  

A fresh start. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come visit me and at [a-writerwrites](http://a-writerwrites.tumblr.com/)  
> Leave a note and let me know what you think! Thanks-
> 
> Here's the rebloggable post: [just a touch of your love](http://a-writerwrites.tumblr.com/post/156982462570/just-a-touch-of-your-love)


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